


Host of Pleasures

by Laylah



Category: Last Remnant
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Massage, PWP, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rush shrugs, stretches, arching his back in a ridiculously tempting display. "You haven't disappointed me yet," he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Host of Pleasures

The evening has already been enjoyable before they ever retire to David's rooms. For once, the news the patrols brought back from the highway was good -- no sign of Third Committee renegades, barely even any jhana activity -- and dinner, as a consequence, turned into a bit of an impromptu celebration. These are simple pleasures -- the laughter of his soldiers at the other end of the hall, the comfort of gai yang spiced perfectly, the warm hum of wine in his blood -- but David is learning to appreciate them.

And there is Rush, who is a whole host of pleasures by himself. He leans easily against David's side as they make their way from the feasting hall up to David's quarters, his fair cheeks flushed with wine and laughter. David does his best to maintain his decorum in public, and not to make a spectacle of his infatuation, but it takes nearly all his self-control. As soon as the door closes behind them, granting them privacy, he pulls Rush close for a kiss. He's demanding, now that he knows Rush is willing; he would worry that he takes too much for granted, perhaps, save that Rush always meets him with such delighted enthusiasm.

Like now, when Rush laughs as David releases him from the kiss. "You were getting pretty impatient back there, huh?"

"You think so?" David asks, smiling back. "You might find I have more patience than you think."

Rush tugs at his belts. "Yeah? Maybe you should show me."

David shrugs out of his coat. "I never can resist the kind of challenges you offer me."

He does little to prove himself in the process of removing Rush's clothes; they are both in haste to disrobe the other, and practiced enough that it takes little time. He can see from the smirk tugging at the corner of Rush's mouth that Rush has come to a similar conclusion, and that smirk blossoms into a full-fledged grin when David pushes them both toward the bed.

"See?" Rush says, as David tumbles them both and retrieves a flask of ether oil from the table. "Still in a hurry. Not that I'm complaining."

"So sure of my intentions," David says. He rolls Rush over, onto his stomach, and there's a little thrill down his spine -- again, as always -- at how easily Rush permits him that sort of liberty, how willing Rush is to allow him whatever he wants. "I wonder, will you be disappointed if it turns out you're wrong?"

Rush shrugs, stretches, arching his back in a ridiculously tempting display. "You haven't disappointed me yet," he says.

David smiles. "Then I shall endeavor to keep you so satisfied," he says. He uncorks the flask and pours oil into his cupped hand, then straddles Rush's thighs and leans forward to smear the oil across Rush's back. Unlike similar but less costly preparations, ether oil will warm slightly in response to friction; David presses down and forward, sliding both hands up either side of Rush's spine, just enough pressure to wake the muscles there.

"Oh," Rush says, the syllable turning to a soft, breathy sound as David pushes harder. "Oh, Dave. Wow." He melts in David's hands, tension easing visibly from his shoulders. David hums, working his way down, stroking gently where his hands pass over the unprotected spots beneath Rush's ribs, and kneading harder where muscle resists him. As he reaches the small of Rush's back, he can feel the way tension slowly shifts in Rush's body, the way Rush arches toward him. He allows his thumbs to brush the cleft of Rush's ass for one light, teasing stroke before he begins to work his way back up again, and Rush squirms. "Dave...."

"I wouldn't want to hurry you," David says. He leans down, warming the oil on Rush's back with his breath, then presses his lips to Rush's nape.

Rush laughs into the pillows. "I see how it is," he says.

David bites him gently. "I hope so," he says.

On his second pass he lingers longer, sliding backward so he has room to massage the firm muscle of Rush's ass and the backs of his thighs. Rush makes more sweet, low noises and tries to push toward his hands, tries to guide him, but David takes his time, teasing, kneading, moving back up again when Rush's rocking hips grow too insistent. He's hard, and he has no doubt that Rush is, too, but he's enjoying taking his time. He fetches a little more oil and starts again at Rush's shoulders, admiring the soft glow of oiled skin by lamplight, savoring the warmth beneath his hands.

This time, when he gets as far as Rush's thighs, instead of simply squirming for him Rush says, "You, ah -- you missed a spot."

"Have I?" David says. He reaches for the flask. "Perhaps you'd be so kind as to show me where."

"Yeah," Rush says, and then he does, shameless and beautiful -- he reaches back with both hands and spreads himself open, pushing toward David. "Right here."

He's so lovely. David swallows, his eloquence for a moment deserting him. "My apologies," he manages. "Here." He tips the flask, lets more oil drip down into the spread cleft of Rush's ass, and the way Rush shivers makes David's mouth go dry. He sets the flask aside and traces the path the oil has taken, rubbing it gently into delicate flesh, keeping his touch as light as he can stand.

"Dave," Rush breathes, rocking to meet his fingers. "More."

David leaves one hand where it is, and retrieves the flask with the other. He adds more oil, leaves Rush slicked wet, tracing tiny circles against Rush's hole without pressing quite hard enough to enter him.

Rush's fingers slip, his skin too slick to hold easily, and he adjusts his grip to spread himself again. "Please, Dave," he says. "Please, I want you in me."

"I can hardly refuse you," David says -- too true, and there is no-one else to whom he would say such things. He presses, allows one fingertip to sink into Rush's heat. He means to move slowly, still, but Rush is too needy, too hungry, pushing back to take him deep almost immediately. David draws back, holding -- however tenuously -- to his control, letting Rush begin to feel opened but not yet _full_.

That will not last as long as he might have intended, in any case; Rush moves with him too readily, too willingly, and when he says, "Please, Dave, more," all David wants is to comply. He adds a second finger, and more oil; the sheets will be ruined, but the luxury of all this slick warmth is too much to pass up.

"I want you," he says.

Rush laughs, glances back over his shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

"What, indeed," David agrees. "It's almost as though someone challenged me to go slowly."

"Well, that was silly of him," Rush says.

David can't help laughing himself. "I quite agree," he says. He withdraws his fingers carefully, giving Rush one last teasing stroke before he drapes himself over Rush's back. "But I suppose now my pride is satisfied." He presses one more kiss to Rush's nape as he lines up. "So let's move on to satisfying other things."

He pushes, and Rush opens for him, and as he slides in deep Rush is pushing back to meet him, and Rush is saying, "Yes -- yes."


End file.
